Unholy Cravings

Unholy Cravings

Beaten and with no memory of what happened, Soren and Donar are desperate to find out who wants them dead. Only one person can help, a sexy healer who’s lost faith in her powers. The more time they spend with her, the more attracted they are to her luscious curves and quick mind. As they compete for her affections, their memories return, bringing with them a darkness that is hard to control. Now they must put aside their differences or risk losing the only woman who can help them.

Tara feels a strong connection with the handsome men in her care. She wants to heal the evil taint on both their souls, but can only offer peace to one, dooming the other to a life of torment. Who should she choose to save? The longer she waits, the harder the choice, and with the lord of the underworld hunting all three of them, she knows that too much hesitation will cause her to lose them both.

Note: This book contains a paranormal menage romantic pairing where the men are NOT involved in a romantic relationship (MFM).

It was obvious that they were related. Each was taller than the average man. Not as tall as Samir’s six-foot-five frame, but close. The leaner one had medium-length golden hair, wavy and layered. He reminded her of her favorite singer, Keith Urban. The broader man wore his shorter, in a James Bond sort of look. She wondered if their hair would feel the same when it sifted through her fingers.

No, she had a job to do. It would be just her luck if both men died on her while she sat there ruminating on how their bodies would feel pressed against hers.

Tara pushed aside her desire and sat on the bed. “I still think you’re Donar,” she said to the thinner man with medium-length hair, the one she had tried to move herself earlier. He looked to be slightly older than the other and a little more worse for wear. It’s the guilt, she guessed. He feels responsible for his brother’s sickness.

She shifted her gaze to the other man on the bed. “And you are Soren.” Tara leaned over Donar and touched Soren’s cheek. She closed her eyes and flexed her wings, then sent her magic into his body, searching for any wounds she might find. She met an inky blackness, a darkness so deep, so thick, that it stole her breath.

It was the taint. When a human accidentally touched a deamhan or an object with deamhan power, there was a chance that the black magic would enter them and alter their psyche. There, the blackness would feed on the good, engulfing it and growing day by day until the poor human would become a deamhan himself.

Anger welled up inside of Tara. She had seen many people succumb to the taint inside of them. Friends, family, relatives. It was a slow and painful process. Sometimes the darkness attacked you physically, wearing your body down until it was a shell of your former self. Other times it attacked mentally, warping a victim’s reality and removing their will to live. Either way, she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. She forced her hand away and opened her eyes. She had to save them from a fate worse than death, but how? She stood and walked around the bed.

“I’m not going to let you die,” she told the men. Tara sat down next to Soren and framed his face with her hands. His taint seemed to be more physical than his brother’s. Soren’s face was contorted in physical pain, while Donar’s seemed more at peace.

Tara would start with him.

She moved to his side, closed her eyes and ran her fingers over the rough stubble, imagining how it would feel like against her inner thigh. Soren had strong emotions, she could feel it. If she could somehow reach down and harness it, then perhaps she could save him from his pain.